


Five Stars

by strangeallure



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Feelings Realization, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Twitter, ben tries to help, better late than never, but somehow it keeps happening, desert girl in a gray skies world, kiss-proof is for other people, rey has a problem, season of sludge, the only way to drink IPA is from ben solo's mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:07:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29251962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure
Summary: Rey rates her mood on Twitter. It goes better than expected.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 36
Kudos: 119





	Five Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I found [this prompt](https://twitter.com/beccastanz/status/1357534795367129089/) on Twitter and got inspired to write something short and sweet. Hope you like it!
> 
> Thanks to frangipani for looking this over and providing an absolutely vital Star Wars Legends reference.

When Rey walks home from her last lecture for the day, it’s raining, because of course it is. Not a downpour but a steady drizzle saturating the cool air with too much moisture, promising that the heavy gray clouds overhead won’t go away any time soon. There’s barely a breeze, so she stays dry beneath her umbrella, but the wet chill in the air seems to creep into her bones even through her jacket and sweater.

At least the weather suits her mood. Rey grew up in the desert with dry heat year round, and the time between New Year’s and spring has been tough for her ever since she moved to Coruscant. When she’d applied for college here, the idea of actual seasons had seemed charming, but after her third winter with very little snow and a lot of cold, sludgy days, she wouldn’t exactly call it a draw anymore.

“Anybody home?” she shouts into the apartment while struggling with her not-quite-broken umbrella. There’s no reply. Rey’s not surprised. Rose has always been busy with a demanding course load and a part-time job, but since she’s started dating Armie, she’s barely home anymore.

And Rey’s happy for her, she is, but with everything so gloomy, she still wishes Rose were here right now because she’d take one look at Rey and make them hot chocolate before putting on a show about bad tattoos or bad weddings or bad bakers. And if Rey sighed pathetically enough, she’d add some rum to their mugs.

As it is, Rey wrestles her umbrella into their too-small bathroom to dry and changes into sweatpants, a hoodie and fuzzy socks. Turns out they’re out of hot cocoa mix, so she puts the kettle on and makes herself a sandwich. When her tea is ready, she’s extra generous with the rum she pours into her cup.

As soon as she’s done, Rey throws herself onto the couch, wedging her head between two decorative pillows. She meant to watch TV, but the remote suddenly seems very far away, and she has no desire to sit up and retrieve it. Instead, she stares at the mystery spot in the middle of the ceiling.

Rey has built a good life for herself, she knows that. She’s made it into a good college with a major she loves, she doesn’t hate her part-time job, and she has a great little group of friends. It’s much more than her fifteen year old self would ever have hoped for, but right now, all the good things in her life don’t really make her _feel good_. She’s not crying, hasn’t cried since she was six years old, but there’s an uncomfortable pressure inside her head, building behind her eyes and her temples, and she’s just so- She’s just so sad. Not about anything specific, which means she can’t shift into problem solving mode and try to fix it. Objectively, nothing’s wrong. It’s just- sadness. A big blanket of it weighing her down.

The remote is still too far away, but thankfully she threw her phone on the coffee table first thing, and once she stretches a little bit, she’s able to grab at one corner and pull it towards herself without having to get up.

First, she checks her mail and her messages, but all she finds are notifications from her bank and her school and a coupon from a pizza place. Not a single personal message, no one thinking of her and reaching out, she thinks glumly.

She opens Twitter in hopes of some cute animal videos, but those seem to have been buried under political commentary and semi-funny memes, and her only notifications are about retweets. She rarely posts original content, so it’s no wonder, but right now, it feels personal.

Rey tells herself that those thoughts are ridiculous, that it’s just because she’s having a bad day, and while it’s absolutely true, it doesn’t really make her feel any better.

She’s still scrolling through her timeline when a tweet by a car mod account she follows catches her eye. They’ve retweeted a glowing review from a two-time NASCAR champion praising their work. _5 out of 5 stars. Will definitely be working with these guys again!_ Right now, Rey doesn’t feel like anything in her life deserves five stars.

It’s not even a conscious decision to click the button and compose her own tweet:

Sending the message into the ether doesn’t seem to have any positive effects on her mood, so Rey decides to close the app and get her cute animal videos from YouTube. A sudden itch in her nostrils makes her sneeze. One time, two times, three times.

“Good one,” she says to the empty space around her.

Just as she’s rubbing her nose with her sleeve, there’s a new notification.

_♥ @better_be_ben liked your tweet_

Ben Solo. She almost squeaks in surprise. He of the dry wit and amazing hair. Rey knows Ben follows her account. He likes most of her auto-related tweets as well as a surprising number of social justice ones for a business major. It’s nice, somehow, to see him acknowledge her attempt at being funny.

Within a few seconds, a private message pops up, also from Ben.

With anyone else, Rey might wonder if they clicked the wrong handle, but she’s used to Ben starting a conversation like they’re already in the middle of it. It’s a mostly endearing quirk. Before she can answer, he adds,

Ah, okay, so that’s where he’s coming from.

She wishes she could think of an interesting reply to keep the conversation going, but her current mood isn’t exactly conducive to that.

Rey decides not to lie by telling him she’s feeling better already.

Ben’s admission comes as a surprise, and she’s oddly touched by his honesty. He never seems like much can faze him. Then again, she’s pretty sure most people would say the same about her.

And just like that, Rey‘s confused again. Instead of asking what he means, she simply answers, “sure.” He’ll probably clear things up within a message or two.

So that escalated quickly. Rey’s sadness feels like it’s about more than just being alone tonight, but it’s a kind offer and the idea of having company – Ben’s company – makes something inside her chest flutter. He’s been at their place for Rose’s birthday party and movie night, but they’ve never spent time alone before, outside of a group setting. It might be good.

For now, she’s still sad and lonely on her couch, but it’s nice to know Ben’s coming over. She briefly ponders doing something with her hair or putting on real pants, but after her tweet, it seems disingenuous. It’s not like this is a date.

Barely twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.

“One of your neighbors left to walk their three-legged dog, I slipped in behind her,” Ben says by way of greeting.

“Oh yeah, that’s Maz.” Rey nods. “The lady I mean. The dog’s name is Max.”

Ben tilts his head and runs his fingers through his hair like he’s nervous. He’s wearing blue jeans and a black sweater under his pea coat, nothing fancy, but still a good look. Pretty much everything is a good look on him, she has to admit, and tries not to feel self-conscious about her own outfit.

They’re still standing by the door, so Rey makes a show of taking a step back. “Come in.”

“Thanks,” he replies with a half-smile, toeing off his shoes and putting them next to hers before folding his coat neatly across a chair.

It’s a little weird to have him in her space like that, so Rey falls back on common courtesy. “You’d like something to drink?” She gestures towards the kitchen. “Or maybe a sandwich?”

“I’m good,” he declines, still not looking at her. “Unless you want to …” he trails off.

“No, I’m good.” There’s a tension in him Rey doesn’t know what to make of. They might not be best friends, but they _are_ friends. They hang out almost every week, they both like IPAs and _Die Hard,_ and they’ve argued about retro mods for classic cars a thousand times. This shouldn’t be so awkward.

“Couch?” she offers.

“The couch is pretty small.” It’s an odd statement, even if he’s right. There’s definitely enough room for the two of them. “And I’m pretty,” he gestures at himself awkwardly, “ _large_ , so I thought the bed might be better.”

Rey blinks at him. _The bed … might be better?_ As in, _her_ bed. Which begs the question: better for what? Rey might have an idea (or five) about what to do with Ben in her bed, but it still would be nice to know what he’s thinking right now. It’s not like her tweet could be misconstrued into an open call for casual sex, she’s pretty sure.

Asking is still an option, of course. Then again, there’s no scenario in which Ben Solo in her bed doesn’t beat moping on the couch alone, so Rey might as well see where this leads.

“Right this way.”

Rey’s room isn’t a mess, exactly, but her method of organization includes one or more tall stack of notes or books on every flat surface. At least she managed to make her bed this morning, so it looks a bit tidier. Stepping inside, she notices her discarded clothes from earlier on the floor and quickly kicks them under her desk. Good enough.

“Come in.”

Ben shuffles through the door and walks around her bed, coming to stand on the opposite side, which only confuses her more.

“So,” he mumbles, his eyes fixing a spot behind Rey’s shoulder. “I’m just going to go ahead, okay?”

Rey nods, “Okay,” not quite sure what she’s agreeing to. He might be tall, but it’s not like he can kiss her across a queen-sized bed.

And then Ben takes off his sweater. Rey feels her eyes widen and her jaw grow slack. Before she can so much as conceptualize all that pale skin, he’s taking his jeans off, too.

For a moment, Rey simply drinks him in. She knew he worked out but didn’t truly understand his level of dedication. His surprisingly hairless chest is broad and solid, his torso wide, only tapering a little at the waist. His arms look just as strong as they did last summer when Rey might have admired them under fitted t-shirts a time or two, and there’s dark hair on his muscular thighs. She forces her eyes back up so she won’t be tempted to look too closely at his black briefs.

“Damn.” She all but whistles. “What do they feed you at the business school cafeteria?”

Ben makes a little sound and looks down at his feet, almost shyly. And because he’s not wearing a shirt, Rey notices a blush spreading out below the hollow of his throat.

He bites his lip and finally looks directly at her. “If it’s too awkward, we don’t have to,” he says quietly. “I mean, you don’t have to.” No matter what nebulous roads his brain took to get here, that’s where he is: mostly naked in Rey’s bedroom. The logical conclusion would be that this is about sex, yet somehow, it doesn’t feel like it. Ben’s blush has reached his cheekbones by now, and it’s the most adorable thing. “I can just,” he gingerly bends down and picks up his jeans, “I can just go.”

“No.” Rey’s voice comes out more decisive than she feels. “I mean, it’s a little awkward, yes, but we still can-“ She chews at the inside of her cheek. If only she knew exactly what they’re talking about. “If you still want to.”

Ben’s jeans fall back to the floor. “I want to,” he says earnestly.

The logical next step is stripping, too, and part of her wants to, but another part is embarrassed at the thought. What if this is sexual, which - her gut feeling not withstanding - still seems to be the most likely option. She’d be up to make out with him, yes, she hasn’t kissed anyone in too long, but Rey’s not so sure about anything beyond that.

When she looks over at Ben, he makes it a little easier by keeping his eyes pinned to the floor, like he senses her nervousness. So Rey takes a breath and then takes off her sweatpants and hoodie. She got rid of her bra earlier, but put on a tank top instead and is thankful for that now. Fiddling with the hem of it, she asks, “Is it okay if I leave this on?” and it’s her turn to look at the floor.

“Yeah,” Ben says, voice a little scratchy. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

He folds back her comforter and duvet, and Rey notices him taking a deep breath before he slides into her bed, half-sitting against the headboard, back sinking into her mountain of pillows. For a moment, his eyes seem to track the shape of her body, but before she can be sure, he looks down again, holding up the bedding in invitation. Rey smiles, a little crooked, and slips in beside him.

Is this the point where he kisses her?

Instead, Ben puts his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close. They shimmy and wriggle a bit as they arrange themselves around each other. Neither of them is speaking, except for when Rey accidentally elbows him in the ribs and Ben lets out a faint, “Ow,” but doesn’t let go.

Eventually, they find a mutually comfortable position, Rey sitting a little lower than Ben with one arm curled around his waist and their legs touching. If she wants to, she can tilt her head up and look at his face, but she appreciates that she doesn’t have to.

It’s a little strange, but it should feel much stranger, and as they lie together, Rey can feel Ben’s breathing evening out just like hers, can feel his muscles relax just like hers do. Slowly, her awareness shifts to subtler things like his smell and his warmth and the way his thumb gently slides back and forth against her ribs. It’s just so … nice. Peaceful.

Rey hasn’t been held in a while, hasn’t had this much skin-on-skin contact in much longer, and it’s soothing. Which is weird in and of itself because Rey’s never been very touchy-feely. She’s independent and self-sufficient, and she’s proud of that. It took her a long time to learn how to let in Rose and Finn, and she’s known them years longer than Ben. And yet here she is, in his arms, calm like she hasn’t been in ages.

“Is this good?” Ben asks.

“Yes,” Rey almost sighs the word, “this is good.”

He lightly squeezes her shoulders. “I’m glad.”

When he chuckles, she can feel it. “Seems like that article was on to something,” he says.

Rey makes a non-committal sound.

“I’ve always been prone to SAD, but I wasn’t sure if I bought Finn’s argument that it can be exacerbated by touch starvation,” he says. “But then I saw your tweet, and it almost felt like a sign.”

Rey hums into his chest. She doesn’t know what article he’s talking about, but her mind is starting to piece together the larger picture of what he’s saying.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you.” He swallows, and the next words come out quiet. “I’m not good at talking about my feelings, usually, so it felt like if I didn’t ask you right away, I wouldn’t ask at all.”

Rey turns into the crook of his neck. “You didn’t push me,” she replies, “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

After Ben’s gone, Rey checks her timeline and finds an article Finn posted only twelve minutes before she sent her fateful tweet. It’s about seasonal affective disorder and how symptoms can be alleviated by therapeutic cuddling. She likes and retweets before going to bed.

\--

After that first evening, it becomes a thing between them. A pretty regular thing. Either of them sends a message about feeling down, and they find a time to meet up and cuddle. Mostly naked.

They start talking while they hold each other, mainly about their everyday lives, but the deceptive intimacy beneath the covers also leads to some personal truths being shared. Soon, they order take-out and watch TV curled up on the couch after they’ve put their clothes back on. It’s become a bright spot in Rey’s long, gray Coruscant winter. Not just the skin-on-skin contact, the way he gently strokes her arm or her shoulder sometimes, but getting to know him better and opening up enough to let him get to know her better in return.

It’s not like they’re doing anything wrong or inappropriate, but they still don’t tell the others. It’s nice to share this with him, to have it be something for just the two of them.

\--

And then spring comes. Rey’s been noticing the signs for a while: days getting longer, early bloomers poking out of the soil, the first birds starting to sing. And, worst of all, sunshine.

The truth is that Coruscant is beautiful in the bright light. The city has been built and rebuilt so many times, and every occupation, every era has left its mark, different building materials, color conventions and architectural styles turning the cityscape into an intricate historical mosaic, revealing something different and interesting every time you look.

As soon as they reopen the pass up to the Maranai mountains, Rey wants to go and hike all the way to the top of Mount Umate. The view from there is breathtaking, the city lying at her feet, glowing and glittering and full of color. She wonders if Ben’s been up there before. He’d love it, too, she’s sure.

Rey wishes they’d known it would be the last time when they did their thing two weeks ago, and the way Ben smiles at her across the table during game night makes her think he might feel the same.

If nothing else, she wouldn’t have been so quick to wash her sheets. She’s come to like how they smell after he’s been over, the hint of citrus from his soap and the expensive salon smell lingering on her pillows. It’s a silly thought, Rey realizes that, but it’s still hard to push away.

At least they’re still texting privately like they didn’t before. Nothing substantial, just stray observations and little things that seem too insignificant or too specific for the group chat. And without fail, Ben’s name popping up on her phone makes something flop in Rey’s belly.

\--

It’s Armie’s turn to host movie night, and he and Rose promised a home-cooked meal beforehand. When Rey arrives, they’re still hard at work in the kitchen, and after a brief hug, Rose quickly ushers her towards the living room.

“Ben’s already here, drinks are on the table, help yourself,” is all Rey hears before the kitchen door clicks shut behind her friend.

As announced, Ben’s sitting on the couch.

“Hey,” Rey says with a weird little wave. When he returns the wave, she feels a bit better.

“Hey.”

She sits down next to him, realizing it’s the first time they’ve been alone together since they stopped doing their thing.

“How’s it going?” she asks awkwardly.

It really shouldn’t be awkward, sitting next to her friend while they’re waiting for the rest of the gang to arrive, but being on the couch like this – even if Armie’s is much bigger – all Rey wants to do is curl up next to Ben and stroke her fingertips against the fine hairs on his forearm like she used to.

“Pretty good. You?”

His hands are crossed in his lap and his shoulders curled inward, like he doesn’t want to risk touching her, not even on accident, and it makes something in her throat swell.

“Good, good,” she replies, pasting on a smile.

He finally looks directly at her, an unexpected intensity in his eyes. “Is it really?” He seems to deflate a little. “Going well, I mean.”

Rey takes a breath. She doesn’t understand the point of his question and she can’t read his expression very well, but for once she decides to trust her gut more than her fear.

“Objectively, I’m doing well.” She shrugs a little helplessly. “Subjectively, I miss you.”

For a moment, Ben simply looks at her, and she’s glad he doesn’t pretend not to understand what she means.

“I miss you, too.” His voice comes out quiet and a little dry.

There’s a flash of something like clarity in Rey’s mind, and suddenly she knows exactly how this could go. How they might start meeting up one-on-one again for dinner or coffee or a movie; maybe even for a walk and ice cream with the way temperatures keep climbing. How, once the days grow shorter and colder, they might start doing their thing again. Cuddle and be close and share each other’s secrets, but only for a few hours a week. Until spring comes.

That’s not what she wants, she admits to herself, and with this realization, a thousand little memories resurface: the impulse to kiss him every time she opens the door; keeping her hands still on his arm when all she wants is to explore the expanse of his chest; holding onto his sweater when they’re cuddling on the couch so she won’t be tempted to slide her fingers inside the waistband of his jeans.

Heat rises in her cheeks. “I want to kiss you,” she blurts out.

Ben makes a surprised little noise, but then his face breaks into a grin. “Me, too.”

Rey leans in and in spite of all the pent up emotions inside of her, their first kiss is gentle, soft and sweet. Only a hint of wetness and barely any tongue. She’s still a little breathless when they pull apart.

“I want to kiss you a lot,” she declares, nodding her head for emphasis.

That makes him laugh. “I want to kiss you a lot, too.” His eyes are bright and he tilts his head in that way he has. “I want to go out with you. I want to hold hands in public. I don’t want this,” he gestures between them, “to be a secret.”

It’s exactly what Rey wants, too, but she still can’t help teasing him. “Ben Solo, are you asking me to go steady?” She’s not sure she’s ever giggled before.

“I am,” he says simply.

Rey all but falls into his arms, and this time, they kiss more deeply, Ben holding her close, his palm rubbing her hip while Rey buries her fingers in the thick strands of his hair. He tastes like hops and smells so familiar, warmth and citrus, that all her body wants is to melt into him.

She’s just pulled her leg up to slide it across Ben’s lap when she hears a shriek that makes her pull away and fall back against the couch cushions.

“What’s going on here?” Rose demands with eyebrows raised high. “How do I not know about this?”

Before either of them has a chance to reply, Rose shouts towards the kitchen, “Armie, did you know about this?”

Armie wanders in behind her, a kitchen towel thrown over his shoulder. “About wha-” He looks at Ben, then Rey, then Ben again. “I had no idea,” he says with a _keep me out of this_ kind of gesture.

Curious, Rey glances over at Ben. She has to press her lips together to keep from laughing. Even if she hadn’t messed up his hair as much as she did, the lipstick smeared all around his mouth would be a dead giveaway. Definitely not kiss-proof, that one.

Ben tries to straighten his hair, somehow managing to grin and look a little guilty at the same time. It’s the cutest thing.

“So Rose,” Rey tries for nonchalance she’s probably not pulling off, “guess who’s got himself a girlfriend.”

Rose and Armie shake heads and roll eyes in a remarkable show of synchronicity, but Rose, at least, is definitely smiling.

“It’s me,” Ben says, and it’s so dopey and so sweet that Rey simply has to kiss him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Like all my stories, this is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>  **Feedback** : short comments, long comments, questions, constructive criticism, "<3" as extra kudos, reader-reader interaction
> 
> [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta)  
>   
>  **Author Responses** : This author replies to comments.
> 
> You can also hit me up on tumblr: [drstrangewillseeyounow](http://drstrangewillseeyounow.tumblr.com/)


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